Hook Echo
by MaplePucks
Summary: Alfred is after adventure. What better adventure is there in the Midwest then chasing tornadoes? He goes chasing after an F4, his intentions are not purely academic at this point. Human name used. One shot I did for a contest on DeviantArt...


**My dream "vacation" if you will, is to spend a summer chasing and studying tornadoes. I don't want to be a meteorologist, but I do find them immensely fascinating. Anyway, since Alfred likes archaeology and adventure, I thought he would make a perfect storm chaser. **

**Hope you enjoy! Feedback is nice! **

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Alfred was staring hard at the mass of green, red and orange on the computer screen. To anyone else it would seem to be a regular scan of a run of the mill thunderstorm, but Alfred knew it was different. He knew it was a super cell, ripe for the formation of tornadoes. His eyes raced from the screen to his other instruments, he furrowed his brow in frustration.

"I know you're out there, where are you hiding," he whispered to himself. After a few more minutes of searching, he spotted what was looking for. In the northwest part of the storm, a little mass red and orange extended out, it looked like a fish hook. It was called the hook echo, and it meant a tornado was forming.

Alfred scrambled out of the back of the van, tripping over himself to get on top of the vehicle. He stood there with his hands on his hips, scanning the sky like it was the same computer screen. He smiled, the clouds were dark and swirling with anger. Off in the distance he could see the green tinged of the hail cone in the sky. It was the middle of July, in the heart of the Midwest, but the air whipping around him had cool feel to it. A prefrontal super cell, Alfred thought, his smile growing larger. This was going to be interesting. He searched for the funnel cloud he knew was out there, but couldn't see it. Suddenly, he heard sirens in the distance. The warning sirens, a tornado had been spotted.

The American launched himself off the van, landing on his feet but had to throw out his hands to prevent falling over on his face. He threw himself into the driver's seat and took off towards the sirens. He knew he didn't have long to catch up to the tornado, it won't stay on the ground but for so long. Alfred raced out of the field onto an old dirt road, the kind that didn't have signs and was way off the beaten path or road map for that matter. Good thing the cops were too busy to care about a speeder, he laughed to himself.

He almost managed to tip his van over when he took a corner too fast. The van rocked back and forth, but Alfred hardly noticed. His attention had been captured by the massive tornado now tearing its way through a field. Its base was huge, at least a half a mile wide. If Alfred had to take a guess, he would say it was at least an F3, potentially F4 category storm. Instead of driving away like any sane person would, he drove straight for it.

As Alfred got closer, he began to see large pieces of debris flying through the air. Siding from houses, parts of fencing, even some barn tools. The hail had started and it was plinking against his windshield. It was just small sized hail, maybe the size of a ping pong ball, perhaps a golf ball.

He drove until he was about a mile ahead of the storm. Throwing the vehicle into park, he clambered out and back on top of the van to begin his adventure for the afternoon. He raised up two metal bars he had welded onto the rack and then attached some chains to them. Alfred quickly got into a harness he had rigged to the chains. He triple checked to make sure he was secure and then turned to gaze back to the tornado, now heading almost directly for him. Alfred was going to ride the winds, basically take a ride with the tornado.

If Arthur even had a clue he was attempting this, he would be in big trouble. Arthur thought it was too dangerous even for a nation to be doing. Storm chasing was not something that should be done in almost a sport like fashion, according the British man. Alfred knew he couldn't be hurt though, even if the van was picked up and thrown with him attached. That would be fine with him, add to the overall adventure he thought, very amused at the image of himself flying on the van.

As the tornado drew closure the sound overwhelmed Alfred. Most people described it as a freight train, but he likened it to the sound of fanfare at a baseball game. The moment when the key player makes a home run, the boos from the opposing fans, the cry of victory from the winning team. All mixed together in one loud roar. That was what a tornado sounded like to Alfred, it filled his American heart with pride.

Finally, the twister was practically on top of him. He had positioned himself near the southeastern section of the storm, where he knew the winds were typically the strongest. Debris flew around him, his hair whipped back and forth, and then suddenly he was lifted off of his feet into the air.

Alfred had given the chains enough slack so that he was lifted 6ft into the air. He kept his arms and legs as still as he could, flailing would not have been a wise decision in that moment. Feeling the wind hit his body, he felt alive and out of control at the same time. The adrenaline raced through his veins, this was the kind of adventure he lived for. Alfred wanted to spend every day of his life like this, living on the edge of sanity.

It seemed like no time at all before the tornado began to shrink back up into the clouds. The winds quickly died, setting Alfred back down on the van's roof. His knees buckled and he fell back into a sitting position. Alfred stared up at the clouds and watched as they transformed from angry swirls to a docile, innocent rain cloud. He smiled and gave sky a mock salute.

"Until next time Mother Nature!" he said excitedly, unchaining himself so that he could head into town and assist with the clean-up efforts.


End file.
